It's All Over Now
by LexLuthor13
Summary: Part 2 of 3 Civil War related oneshots. A straightforward if daunting view on the conversation between Reed and Sue in Civil War 2. Accountability? who needs it? Especially when you're...well, Fantastic.


**The Baxter Building. Home of the Fantastic Four.**

Ben and the kids are in the den. Despite Franklin's best efforts to annoy, Ben looks like he's actually making it through the newspaper. He's strong like that. And Val seems focused entirely on Raggedy-Ann.

Kids. Thank God for them.

So oblivious to the world outside. And maybe it should be that way.

Maybe they're not ready for it.

* * *

"How's the project coming along, Reed?"

It always feels cold in Reed's lab. Keeps the instruments from overheating and throwing us in the middle of a towering insurance liability. Yet another one of Reed's fail-safes. Trying to make up for past mistakes, maybe. He sees it as making life easier.

Hence the newest fail-safe he's losing sleep over.

Superhero Registration.

He walks away from me briskly and slides his safety goggles up on his brow. His lab coat flutters behind him. This is Reed being his typical fourth-gear self.

"Like a dream," he says, and even though he's turned away I can see the smile on his face. "Tony's s big plan for the superhuman community is the most exciting thing we've worked on, Sue."

I'll have to take you at your word. Though I can think of other more exciting things. Things that don't include a birthday visit to prison for Steve or Sam.

"He wasn't kidding when said he'd revolutionize every meta-human in America. I haven't been this excited since I saw my first black hole."

I keep pace as he sidles up to the electron microscope. One hand focuses the lens as he looks at a sample. The other hand writes out an equation on loose leaf. Multitasking.

Usually, it's when he's in fourth gear like this that I get an unshakeable...apprehension.

"Yeah, well…maybe I'd be excited too if his genius plan didn't mean jail for half our Christmas card list."

And it's the truth, or so I think. Reed and Tony and Hank are going to spend a lot of time ruining a lot of reputations, and for what? To make themselves look good to the government?

Reed throws a dismissive hand in the air and talks and doesn't look at me.

"Agreed, but they don't leave us any choice if they refuse to register, honey. Just take a look at my projections if you need to see the social dangers they're creating."

My eyes track across the walls. Not just one equation--not even a square root--those are too simple for him. Dozens. Hundreds, if he's been at it for a week. It's…

"What are you talking about?" I ask. "This is gobbledygook."

"No," he says. "It's the exponential curve the number of super beings is following and the apocalypse we're facing if unlicensed activity isn't brought under control."

Apocalypse?

"What was that, Reed?"

"Apocalypse. You know what I'm talking about, darling. They can't keep this up, or it's the end of business for all of us."

"Reed, honey, we've never been like the rest of them. We've never had secret identities, we have nothing to fear. As far as I'm convinced we don't even **have** a reason to register. They already know who we are."

"You're right. But I want to be on the safe side."

Like in Latveria?

"Tony's big plan is an amazing opportunity for us, darling," Reed says and continues to fiddle with the electron 'scope. "You should hear the ideas he and Hank Pym are tossing around. They're like concept-machines. I don't think I've ever seen people this super-charged."

Yeah. Right. My mind and my eyes drift to the table. To a jewel case lying on the outskirts of a mess of papers. two letters on the cover. 42. That's all.

"What's this number forty-two thing?" I run a gloved hand across the face. He grabs my hand firmly and pulls it away.

"I'm sorry, Susan, but I'm afraid that's classified information."

I'm caught off guard by the strength of his grip on my arm. When he releases it I'm still leery.

"Oh. Right. Well, I guess it's time I was making tracksfor the hospital anyway, huh?"

"Mm," he says distantly. Like he doesn't even notice now. "Give Johnny all my love."

And I turn away, but I don't head for the door.

Didn't even notice. Number 42. Concept machines. Super-charged people. Apocalypse. Unlicensed behavior.

Wait.

"Unlicensed behavior?" I say, turning back to him.

"What's that? Oh, you're still here."

"Yes," I say, reeking annoyance. "I'm still here. What do you mean by this unlicensed activity jargon? Is that something Tony came up with?"

He sighs and his shoulders slump a bit. "Susan—"

"Don't 'Susan' me, Reed," I say and point my finger like some doddering schoolteacher. "You only do that when you think you're too busy for the rest of the world to catch up."

He turns around and gathers up his papers and the 42 CD. Even behind the goggles, he looks….devoted. Intense. "Sue. Don't ask me why I'm doing this. You know why."

"No," I say and shake my head swiftly. "Tell me again. Tell me why you're too busy to spend time with your own children. Tell me why you only step out to talk to Tony or Hank, and not even to help with the groceries. Tell me why you're so wrapped up in this Registration thing that you can't even see your brother-in-law in the **hospital**!"

Each sentence is harder than the last. Each one brings me a little closer to tears. Especially Johnny.

And when I speak again, it's calmer. I don't try to stop the tears. "It wasn't fair what they did to him, Reed. It's not fair what you're trying to do to us. To our friends."

"If you're trying to blame me—"

"I'm not blaming anyone," I moan, tearfully. "I'm saying this is what things look like, Reed. Stop making excuses."

He pulls off his goggles and throws them on the table.

"I'm not making excuses," he says throughburning eyesand hardened expression. "I'm trying to find solutions. And if you won't help, then you're no better than them."

My heart sinks, and I feel something cold. "Them?" My voice trembles.

"Sue, don't get emotional." Hepushes past me and scrawls a brief note on the top of his paper stack."There are people out there who choose to disobey the law, and the people in Washington have asked for my help. I'm giving it, free of charge."

"I see," I say sardonically. "Tony's the mouthpiece, Hank's the black kettle, and you're the Good Samaritan?"

"You're missing the point." He pushes past me. I follow him to his office, where he sets the pile of papers on the edge of his desk, and into the kitchen. "They're unsanctioned. They're kids. They're criminals. Dressing up in masks and capes and putting their lives at risk—and the lives of everyone they run into. How many people are going to die because Bruce Banner can't control it? How many people are going to get caught in the **crossfire** because Spider-Man and the Rhino disagree?"

"Is this why they wanted you, Reed? So you'd make perfect and unmistakeable math out of this?" I pull a plate from the cupboard. He hands me the turkey and mayo from the fridge, and I start in on a sandwich for him. "Telling those people to register doesn't **stop** the rest of the world from endangerment. You can't save everyone, Reed."

"Oh I know that," he says nonchalantly and pours himself a cup of coffee. He sits at the table, and I hand him his sandwich. "I'm not trying to save them. I'm trying to contain **us**."

"Contain?"

Reed looks at me. Sighs. Puts the coffee cup down. "They're too powerful, Sue. Even **with** registration we can't keep tabs on them if they're…free range. We need a place where we can keep them on roster and where they can't hurt anyone else."

Oh…oh my—

"You…you're building a prison. That's what that 42 is. You're building a place where you can chain all the troublemakers up and treat them like dirt?"

He sips the coffee again.

"**Answer me**!"

"Sue..." he says it like a teacher talking down to a student, and trails off. How very telling, o husband of mine.

"Jesus." I run a hand through my hair and start pacing. I feel cold again, and give a weak shrug. "Why?" I ask quickly. "Just…why?"

"Because," Reed says. "They're not safe. And neither are we."

"Who is '**they**,' Reed! The kids, Johnny, Ben? Who?"

"Society."

"Come on, Reed," I say. "**We** keep them safe. You know that."

He looks at me with distant eyes. And I notice for the first time in a long time, that he looks…old. Weary. Overworked and overwrought about this. "I can't risk it anymore, darling. I won't. Bruce **killed** 26 people, indirectly or directly doesn't matter, in Las Vegas. I hold myself responsible for that."

"And you sent him off into space." I say it frankly.

Reed frowns. "How…?"

"Oh I have my ways, too." I sit down at the chair diagonal from his, and lay my hand on his. "Honey, I'm asking you to please **think** about this. There has to be another way. There **has** to."

"No," he says and pulls his hand away. "I've looked at it from every angle, and there just isn't. I **had** to send Bruce away, just like I **had** to create Project 42. It's a matter of national security. A matter of family security. We're staying safe by putting them where they can't get to us or anyone else."

"But you're depriving them, Reed. Don't you see the danger here?"

"No."

I stand and sigh. Start pacing.

"Kids shouldn't wear costumes, Sue," he says after a silence, trying to convince me. "It's dangerous."

"Oh enough with the danger, Reed! Why don't you just tell me what you're really doing."

"I…don't follow."

"You're trying to make up for something, and you think by aligning with the government on this, you'll all be cleared of whatever you've done in the past. Tell me where your accountability is, Reed. You've said they're all criminals, that they have no business doing what they do, that they're only promoting further violence. But what about you? What about Hank and Tony?"

He waves a hand. "Don't change the subject, here—"

"No, I think it's perfect. Hank creates a **killer robot** and God knows what else, and no one seems to care about that? Tony's **lied** to Washington in the past, how do you know this is any different? And then there's you—" I point at him and speak a little calmer "—why are you doing this? Are you trying to make up for Latveria?"

He rests his head in his hands for a moment, breathes deeply and lets it go. "Yes."

"Why?"

"The people need to see we can be **trusted**, Sue," he says gravely. "It's as simple as that. We're not…villains. Villains are people who dress up ingreen capes and suits of armorand act unilaterally and do **wrong**. When we went into Latveria, I made a mistake. I swore I wouldn't do it again."

Hmm…

"I'm trying to create a better life, Sue. A better world, where the kids can grow up and see that we at least tried. That it's not all a hellhole. That there's a chance."

I sit back down. I haven't heard Reed this downtrodden since--well, since Latveria.

"So. There," he says and waves a hand again. "Say what you want."

I don't say anything. I lean in and kiss him. And whisper softly in his ear.

"You're my husband. And I love you. And I'll stand by you through whatever comes our way—I think I've done a good job of it so far. We'll get through this too. But I don't want this to be the end of life as we know it. And I can't shake the feeling that it's going to be."

He smiles. That warm, loving smile I fell in love with. The man I fell in love with.

"Don't worry. We're doing everything we can, dear. By Christmas, this'll all be a memory."

* * *

_Continued...in **Civil War**, **Fantastic Four**, and beyond..._


End file.
